Ethan

“That smells amazing,” I told her for the tenth time as I looked over her shoulder. She was stirring the beef stew while the cocoa lazily steamed on the back burner.

“It’ll be a little while longer.” She left a small amount of broth on the spoon she was using and turned to me, blowing on it slowly. “Taste and tell me if it needs anything.”

My mind flashed to my childhood, when my mother would do the same thing to either me or Ryan, calling us her little taste testers. We often fought over whose turn it was, much to her delight. I could still see her smile and hear her light-hearted laughter. Neither of which had made an appearance in years.

“Ethan? You okay?”

I shook myself—quite literally—and offered a smile I didn’t feel. “Sorry, must have been mesmerized by the aroma.” I let her touch the spoon to my lips and held her eye as I noisily slurped the contents, making her giggle.

“It’s perfect. Don’t change a thing.” I nodded.

She took the spoon over to the sink and replaced it with a clean one. “How about some cocoa while we wait for dinner, and you can tell me what really made you space out just now?”

I blew out a breath, smiling for real now. “You’re entirely too perceptive.”

“Not really. But I do think a guy who’s leading a double life should be a better liar.”

She poured us both steaming mugs of cocoa and plunked a giant marshmallow on top of each one before nodding to the living room, looking ecstatic to finally be in the same room with me. I felt the same way, as evidenced by the bone crushing hug I’d pulled her into as soon as she opened the door. “Careful when you turn around. Dammit has been keeping so close to your heels, you might accidentally trip over him.”

I glanced down at the light brown ball of adorable and sure enough, he was all but leaning on my leg. “Hey, dude. Sorry you can’t have chocolate, but maybe we can talk your human into hooking you up with one of those marshmallows. Whatcha think?”

Dammit stood and wagged his tail, giving a low woof of agreement.

He and I both turned to give her puppy dog eyes. Since he was unable to verbalize his plea, I stepped up and said, “Just one? Please? Look at him; he’s such a good boy.”

She shook her head as she glanced down and answered as if Dammit had asked the question. “And when all that sugar gives you the trots, who do you suppose will be taking you out in the freezing cold to do your business?” She hooked a thumb in my direction. “Him? No. It’ll be me out there shivering, holding a plastic bag in the middle of the night.”

Dammit woofed again, moving to stand in front of her now that she was talking directly to him, his tail still wagging like he didn’t see the problem with her scenario.

“Doesn’t he have one of those fake grass patches on the balcony?” I seemed to recall her mentioning that.

“Yeah, but he only piddles there. He won’t do the other thing.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. “Interesting quirk.”

“Tip of the iceberg.” She leaned down and scratched behind his ears, which nearly made him fall over in apparent delight. “You should see what he does to an unattended laundry basket. And do not leave your food anywhere within his reach. No self-control whatsoever.”

“We all have our issues with impulse control, though, don’t we? Of course, most of us don’t have that adorable face helping to get us out of trouble.”

There was a slight blush in her cheeks when she looked up at me and said, “You have better willpower than most men I know, actually, and your looks have probably bailed you out of plenty of sticky situations.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” I turned my gaze to the ceiling, plastering an innocent look on my face.

“Uh huh,” she muttered, patting Dammit’s head on her way past me. “Even the dog just rolled his eyes at that one.”

Dammit took a few steps to follow her but stopped and backtracked to wait for me. I looked down at him, speaking loudly enough for her to hear. “And here I was trying to score you a treat. I thought we were friends, dude.”

His ears perked up at the word treat, and he went into a tizzy, running around my legs twice before darting off to the living room after Emily.

She nearly stumbled over him as he excitedly wound around her legs, chuffing under his breath. After setting her cocoa on the TV cabinet—well out of Dammit’s reach—she turned to me with a huff. “You’ve gone and done it now.”

“Done what?”

She pointed to Dammit, who was still behaving like someone had given him a Red Bull. “You said t-r-e-a-t.”

Dammit chuffed louder, jumping up and nuzzling her hand where it hung by her side, clearly encouraged by what he’d heard.

“Can that dog spell?” I asked, surprised.

“Apparently.” She rolled her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “At least you didn’t say the other thing. He completely loses his shit when he hears that.”

I smirked. “Hears what?”

“Uh uh. Nice try. I’m not saying it or spelling it. I don’t want the neighbors calling the super and complaining about the barking. Again.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Fine. You can text it to me. After you get him his t-r-e-a-t.”

Dammit’s head turned in my direction and he launched himself at my feet, actually standing on one of them so he could reach my hand when he jumped up.

Emily grumbled from across the room. “That’s the problem. I forgot to buy the stuff to make more when I stopped off at the market earlier.”

Of course, she made his treats from scratch.

I smiled and reached down to lift Dammit into my arms. Grinning at Emily, I asked the wiggling, face-licking little pup, “Guess who’s getting that marshmallow after all?”

Emily smiled right back, also talking to the dog as she drew closer. “And guess who’s now required to stay long enough to join us for your late-night walk?” She stepped past me, on her way to get the t-r-e-a-t. “He even gets to carry the baggie.”

I leaned back and looked down at my furry co-conspirator. “What have I gotten myself into?”

He enthusiastically licked my face as I laughed. Whatever I’d gotten myself into, I was enjoying every minute.